


She's Gone and I'm Still Here

by GazDibMama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'm so bad at tagging, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:32:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GazDibMama/pseuds/GazDibMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John had met someone not long after Mary's death? How much would change? If anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: July, 2001

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaeXavier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeXavier/gifts).



> As always, not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This idea came in my head and I just couldn't get it to leave. I offered a number of different things, but no go. It was here and needed to be put out there.
> 
> I'm posting the prologue and the first two chapters.

"If you walk out that door, don't come back." 

She sat down as she was trying to process what John had just said to Sam. He was disowning him?! She couldn't even begin to form words as she saw Sam grab his bag and start to turn for the door.

Finding her voice, she stood. "Dean, take your brother to the bus station." She knew that Dean would comply. For all of his bad boy image, he was the good son, the one who did what he was told when he was told. Like his Dad that way, took orders well. 

Sammy though, Sammy was a little more like her. Always wanting to know why, always looking for his own path. She looked at him, he had gotten so tall, and was still growing. She knew that his heart was shredding inside a chest that was still filling out. She gave Sam, her boy, Dean was Mary's, no doubts about that, but Sam had been so little when she had stumbled into their lives that he was hers, a sad smile. "Let your brother take you to the bus station." She walked over and framed his face with her hands. "I love you." Damn, she was gonna cry. "And I am SO proud of you." She glanced back at John and then whispered in Sam's ear. "So is he, even if he's too big of a jackass to say it." Sam just nodded. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Call me when you get there." And Sammy was out the door and onto a new life at Stanford.

John's back was still turned to them all. The stubborn bastard. Sometimes she wondered why the hell she had even fallen in love with him. But she had and even with as angry as she was right now, she knew she wouldn't leave him. She also knew that no matter what had come out of his mouth, he hadn't meant it. Oh, it would be a hell of a long time before he would admit to his mistake, but he would. She'd make sure of it.

Before Dean could get out the door, she stopped him. "When you get Sam dropped off, come back here. I'll need you to take me to Bobby's." She wasn't gonna leave John for good, but she sure as hell needed some space, and Bobby's was a good place to go be angry at John for a while. Plus, Jim frowned on the weed, whereas Bobby would just critique her joint rolling skills.

Dean nodded as he went out the door. Another reason to be angry. Dean would follow John's lead, to a degree. She had managed to get John to hold off on taking Dean on hunts until he was sixteen, but it had been a battle. With as hard as Dean had fought to be his Dad's hunting partner, he wasn't gonna turn his back, not even for Sam.

When the door closed, John turned to her, and her heart broke even further. He looked devastated. "You're leaving?" His whiskey rough voice now a graveled grumble.

"Until the urge to shoot you with your own gun passes, yes." And that was the truth. She would stay gone until the irrational homicidal anger passed to rational seething anger. And they would never talk about it past tonight. The Winchester way.

John nodded, his usually proud stance slumped against the wall. "I just need them to be safe." He looked at the floor for a long spell before speaking again. "He wants normal." His fingers grasping at the hem of his t-shirt. "Mary wanted normal, and look where that got us." John pushed himself off of the wall and grabbed his jacket.

Walking past her, he stopped for a minute and just stared into her eyes. She let everything she was feeling show. Anger, frustration, hurt, and above all else, love. She loved him like she had never even thought to love anyone else, with one exception. Well, two. Sam and Dean.

With a sad smile, he pulled her to him and gave her probably the most emotional kiss he had ever given her. She could hear the 'I'm sorry, I know I fucked up, I love you' in it.

As she was trying to get her bearings after he let her go, he was already to the door. "Call when you want me to come get you." And then he was gone.

Throwing her shit in her bag, she sat down to wait for Dean. As she waited, she thought back to the day over fifteen years earlier that John Winchester and his boys took over her life.


	2. Chapter One: April, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracy, who's stuck in Nowheresville, Nebraska, decides to see about the boys left alone next door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

It was early evening when Tracy pulled up to the rundown duplex that sat on the edge of a ratty small town in central Nebraska. Sighing at the sight of her extremely humble abode, she shut the ignition off on her 1970 Jeep Wagoneer. The damn thing had broken down six months ago, not far from here and had taken nearly all of her savings to fix, so she had been stuck. Luckily, the high school had needed an art teacher for the year and she had needed the money. No one in town deluded themselves she was staying any longer than the school term.

Getting out of the Jeep, the door to the other side of the duplex opened and her new neighbor came out, heading towards a beauty of a muscle car. He gave her a slight head nod as she passed him on the way to her front door. As she fumbled her key in the lock, she could feel his eyes, heavy on her back, for barely a moment, and then it was gone in the roar of the engine.

Letting herself in to the pre-furnished apartment, she sat her bag down and made a beeline for the kitchen and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. Taking a small shot of the ice cold liquor, she shivered a little at the freezing burn as it went down. Opening the fridge, she shook her head and after grabbing a beer, closed it back up. She really wasn't hungry, and she still hadn't perfected that whole cooking for one anyway.

Sitting at the table in the dining area, she popped the cap off of the bottle with a lighter. She thought about the man who had just driven off. He was handsome, there was no doubts about that. Tall, broad shouldered, dark eyes, dark hair. And the couple of times she had seen it, an absolutely devastating smile. But she was pretty sure he had lost the mother of the two small boys that he had. The older was probably six or seven, she knew he was in the first grade at the elementary school in town. The younger one was maybe three, a dark haired, chubby cutie with his daddy's dimples. The man, he had never bothered to even give her a name, but then again, they'd only been here a couple of weeks and she wasn't trying to make friends. Well, the man looked at those boys with such grief that their mother had to be dead, it was the only thing that made sense.

When she looked over at the clock on the wall, she was shocked to find she had been sitting at the table for well over an hour. It was nearly nine o'clock. Thankfully it was Friday and she didn't have to worry about being up and personable in the morning. But she was surprised that she hadn't heard her neighbor's car come back. 

The minute that realization hit her, she could hear voices from next door.

"...hungry De." It was the little one.

"You jus' had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich Sammy." The older one sounded like he said shit like that all the time.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had known that the guy left the boys by themselves, but until tonight it had been only long enough for him to go grab some food. And booze. She wasn't niave. She could smell the liquor on him every time he walked by. So tonight was the night he decided to get his drink on and to do that, he left his boys to fend for themselves.

She shouldn't do it. She should keep her ass planted in the chair and just forget what she just fucking heard. She was leaving in a month. She didn't need to form any sort of attachments. She wasn't going to do it.

"...De..." The little voice was more plaintive.

Fuck.

Getting up, she went next door and knocked. The older of the two answered. "What do you want?"

She blinked at the hard tone coming from the angelic face framed by dark blonde hair. "I'm Tracy, your..."

"I know who you are." Holy hell, there was a thirty-five year old trapped in this kid's body!

"So you remember coming to my class last week and doing pottery? You did a really nice job." Trying to get the boy to soften up a little. The younger one had come up and was standing behind his big brother, clinging to his legs.

But it seemed to do the trick, the boy softened, some. "Yeah. That was fun." Then he was back to being a little man. "What do you want Miss Birch?"

"May I come in?" The boy looked at her suspiciously, but stepped aside for her to enter. "Where's your Dad?"

His green eyes narrowed. "Out. He'll be back."

She nodded. Why in the hell was she doing this? She should just get the hell out of here and go back to minding her own damn business. But she looked at the two boys. One trying so hard to be grown-up and tough, and the other was just a toddler. Goddamn that man! How do you leave two little boys on their own? "Well, until he is, do you two want to come have dinner with me? I was going to make some hamburgers." She wasn't, but she had all the stuff. And she was pretty sure little guys would prefer hamburgers to the Swedish meatballs she was going to make with it.

The younger one perked up at the mention of hamburgers. So did the older one, but he hid his interest as fast as he had shown it. The little one tipped the scales. "Hambugga De..."

The older one sighed a little. Then started to scrutinize her. She stood there letting him look his fill if it would get him to relax. No seven year old should be this tense. After a couple of minutes he nodded. "Okay." Then looked nervous as all hell. "But you gotta do somethin' and it's gonna sound stupid." Then looked at her defiantly. "But if you don' do it, we ain't comin' over."

How stupid could it be? They were little kids. "Okay, what is it?"

Dean took her hand and walked her back to the door and pointed to the floor. She could see a trail of salt. She smiled down at the boy. "You want me to put down salt lines?"

The little guy frowned. "You know about salt lines?" He sounded even more guarded than he did before.

Smiling again, she nodded. "My grandmother was from Ireland. She believed in spirits and faeries, and she laid salt lines to keep bad spirits out of her house." She smiled again. "I haven't done it in ages, but I can do that for you and your brother."

Dean finally relaxed. "You will?" He sounded shocked that someone was taking him seriously. But she hadn't lied. When she went to live with her grandmother when she was nine, her grandmother did have salt lines in her house for the reason she had told the boy.

"You bet." She looked over at the toddler. "Does your brother have a name? Or should I just call him Dimples?"

At that Dean actually smiled and boy was it a good one. This kid was gonna be a heartbreaker when he got older. "Tha's Sammy. He's almost three. I'm seven."

Sam came closer to her. "Hambugga?"

She nodded and as she went to reach for the boy, Dean had already scooped him up like he did it all of the time. Knowing she needed to let Dean do this, she stepped back and opened the door. 

Getting back to her place, she let the boys wander around for a minute as she set the salt lines Dean had asked for, but both of them ended up in the kitchen with her. Dean taking an interest in what she was doing. She looked over. "Do you want to help?"

He nodded, now a little shy since he wasn't on his home turf. She smiled. "Let's get Sam set up with some paper and colors and then you can help me if you want. Or you can color with Sam."

"I wanna learn to make hamburgers. That way I can make 'em for me and Sammy when we want 'em."

She frowned but didn't say anything. Why in the hell was a seven year old worried about feeding himself and his brother. What in the world was going on here?

They got Sam set up and he was happy as a clam using the colored chalk to scribble on one of the dozens of sketchpads that were lying around. Dean seemed to enjoy helping to make hamburgers and she threw some frozen french fries in the oven to go with them.

After they ate, and man, did those two go through food like they hadn't been fed in days, she cleaned up while both boys sat at the table coloring. She thought about what few movies she had for the shoddy VCR the landlord had put in the place, but none of them were kid friendly. She was twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, running from an ex that thought stalking her was a fine way to spend his life, and had never even really baby sat. What the fuck was she even doing? All she knew was that she felt compelled to do it. 

Dean was looking at her thoughtfully as Sam had come over and climbed into her lap. "Sam's tired. I should get him home."

Sam snuggled into her more. "Don' wanna De, wanna stay here."

Dean looked almost aghast. "Sammy..."

Looked like little Sam was a stubborn one. "No."

Dean looked up at her, his green eyes filled with worry. "Miss Tracy, Dad will be mad..."

That did it. This man felt like it was fine to leave his sons all alone, and this seven year old was beside himself over worrying his Dad.

"Then your Dad can be mad at me.." Dean looked shocked, but also a little impressed, like no one ever spoke up to his Dad. "I'll go put a note on your door telling him he can come pick you up here." She stared into wide green eyes. "How about you go get pajamas and a book, and we'll just have a little slumber party until your Dad comes back."

She must have put enough authority into her voice because Dean complied right away. As he went next door, Sammy smiled up at her and all of the anxiety she was having over doing this melted away. 

When Dean got back, she got both boys into their pajamas. At first, Dean refused her help, and then relented. She could see he had almost no concept of someone helping him, but had fully embraced the concept of taking care of his brother. 

Once they were all in pajamas, she took them back to the living room and instead of the picture book Dean had brought over, the boys had shoved a sketch pad and pencils into her hands and she started taking requests, including the one for ice cream. If there Dad was gonna pull shit like this, she felt they deserved the ice cream.

By the time both boys had started to nod off, they had covered a good portion of the living room floor with pages and pages from her sketch pad. She had drawn everything they had asked for and had a ball watching their eyes light up as their requests came to life on the paper.

Slowly extracting herself from between them, she gathered Sam in one arm as Dean semi-awoke. She smiled at the sleepy boy, and opened her other arm. "C'mon, I think I've got room for one more."

He was probably more tired than she thought, because he just crawled up and hooked an arm around her neck as he wrapped his legs around her waist. There was a second bedroom with a full size mattress, but she'd never put sheets on it and at the moment was housing her pottery wheel and accessories. 

So she just decided to put them in her bed and she would crash down on the couch until their father showed up. Getting them in bed, and watching Sam immediately curl into his brother, she felt something she was pretty sure she didn't possess. A maternal instinct. And it was telling her to hang onto these boys, as tight as she could.

Getting the blankets settled around them, she brushed the hair out of Sam's face when she noticed Dean's eyes half-open. Reaching over, she caressed his small cheek. "You go to sleep, I'm going to tell your Dad he can get you in the morning."

Dean snuggled in. The kid must really be tired because for the first time all of his defenses were down. "'Kay." He mashed his face into her pillow. "Smells good." His little voice was fading fast.

"I'm glad you think so. What does it smell like?"

Dean gave her a sleepy small smile. "Home." As he drifted off.

She stood there for a moment watching the two small boys sleep and for a second felt something so ferocious that she reached out a hand to the wall to steady herself.

Nodding to herself, she went downstairs and grabbed one of the sketchpads and quickly wrote out a note for the jackhole of a father and went and taped it to the front door. After locking her front door, she went and laid down on the couch to wait for the confrontation she knew was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it! I welcome all comments, concerns, suggestions, recipes, etc...


	3. Chapter Three: April 1986; Later That Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

When John pulled into the dirt driveway, it was nearly one in the morning. He hadn't meant to stay out that long but the drinks were tall and the pool table and marks had bent to his will.

Getting out of the car with a slight stumble, he cursed a little. While he wasn't shitfaced by any means, he was certainly well-oiled. As he got closer to the front door of the duplex they were renting until school was out, he could see a piece of paper stuck onto the door.

When he reached it, he pulled the paper off and held it under the shitty porch light.

'Dear Jackhole,  
When your drunk ass gets home, your boys are at my place. They were hungry so I fed them. You're welcome.  
Don't bother coming over tonight. The boys are asleep and don't need to be disturbed. You can come get them in the morning when you're SOBER!  
Sincerely,  
Your neighbor'

He couldn't fucking believe it. That wasn't gonna fly with him. Those were his sons and who the fuck was this woman to tell him what was going to happen? Granted she was pretty, he had eyes. Even Dean had asked him if he thought she was pretty, Dean had never done that before. That had been last week after school one day. Dean had been excited that his class had been taken to the high-school to make pottery bowls and had mentioned that the new neighbor was the art teacher there. Dean had also gone on about how nice she had been to him and how she had told him that he had done a good job with his bowl.

He had told Dean that yes, the lady was very pretty and it was good that she had been nice to him, but they would be leaving soon and he knew better than to get attached. It had killed him a little to see Dean's face fall for a moment before his son bucked up and nodded.

Well, even with as pretty as she was, he wasn't gonna let her dictate how he dealt with his sons. He stepped over and pounded on her door. "Open up. I want my boys. Now." Using his military voice.

He could hear some footsteps inside and pounded again, at this point not caring if he woke the boys. "Let me in NOW damn it!"

He heard more footsteps and then a female voice. It was placating, soothing, and not directed towards him in the least. "Dean, go back upstairs with your brother. Remember I told you I would deal with your Dad?" He could hear a slight murmur that had to be his eldest. "I'll be fine Dean. So will your Dad. Go back up to Sammy, he's probably worried and he'll need you." Looks like she'd already figured out how to get Dean to do stuff. Just mention Sam and he was off.

He heard the footsteps retreat and as he was getting ready to pound on the door again, it swung open and the next thing he knew there was an ancient shotgun in smaller hands pointed right at his chest.

He couldn't help it, he smiled. Goddamn. She was mad enough to pull a gun on him. "That thing loaded? Or for that matter, can it even shoot? Looks like it's from last century."

She shrugged. "No idea. Found it in the shed out back. I figured I could at least hit you with it." She had a defiant look on her face, eyes that he'd originally thought were dark, but were a blue-green hazel like Sam's, blazing at him. And for the first time since the fire, he felt something that wasn't grief, rage, or worry. "And I told you not to come over until you were sober."

"Having a shotgun pointed at your chest sobers you up. Now I want my boys." He stood taller and crossed his arms over his chest trying to loom over her.

She simply shook her head. "And I said in the morning. They're safe, asleep, and comfortable. They'll be fine until then." She didn't look like she was gonna budge. "And I think that you left those boys alone to go get your drunk on and you're lucky that I'm not turning your ass in."

With that shot, he deflated and sagged down onto the couch. As he did, he looked around. He could see bowls with ice cream residue sitting out on the table. The pages and pages of sketches that scattered the floor. He could still smell the hamburgers she must have made for them earlier. Then he noticed them. The salt lines. They really were safe.

He looked over at the woman who had decided to take a perch on the arm of the couch. She was, to him, petite. Maybe five-six and weighed at most a hundred and ten pounds. But he could see the definition in her arms under the 'Frankie says RELAX' t-shirt, so it wasn't an anorexic thin, just her build. Her body wasn't as lush as Mary's had been, but had it's own appeal. Even though she wasn't real tall, she was long. Long arms, long torso, and damn, the legs...Had it really been almost three years since he had gotten laid? He shook himself out of his thoughts. "You laid salt lines?" 

"Dean asked me to. Said it was the only way they would come over." She gave a small laugh. "My grandma used to use them to keep bad spirits out. I stopped when I left for college." She looked like she was remembering something very unhappy. "Maybe I shouldn't have." 

He didn't comment on that last bit, he had a feeling that wasn't really meant to be said. "You know about bad spirits?" He wondered if she knew about hunters.

"Gran was Irish. Like born in County Mayo Irish." She smiled. "Ghosts, spirits, fae, she believed in it all and protected herself from them. Salt lines. Iron. Silver." The smile faded. "She died seven years ago, I was nineteen, almost twenty. When she went, I stopped doing it."

Shit, she was older than he thought she was. She was only seven years younger than he was. He thought she was twenty-two at the most. "You don't believe in ghosts and the such?"

She shrugged. "Don't disbelieve either. All I can say, is I have personally never seen a ghost, or a spirit, or a fae. That doesn't mean they don't exist. I've never seen an atom, but I know everything is made of them." At least she was open-minded. "And it made Dean feel better, so I didn't mind doing it. Worst care scenario, I keep ants out."

He couldn't help it, he laughed. Damn, it felt good. "Good you can see the bright side I guess." Then, as if he had to remember to be civilized now. "Thank you for helping out tonight." He sagged back on the couch. "I didn't mean to be gone as long as I was...I just needed..." He didn't even know where to fucking start.

She got up and went and leaned the shotgun up in the corner of the living room. "How long ago did your wife pass?" She nodded towards the ring on his finger.

"Almost three years ago. House fire." He couldn't bring himself to look at her knowing the look of pity he was going to get. 

But when he looked up, he didn't see pity. He saw sadness. He saw empathy. He even saw concern. But there wasn't an ounce of pity in her eyes. "That's rough." She pulled a bottle of vodka from her freezer and poured a small amount into two glasses, handing one to him. "You from around here?"

He shook his head. "Kansas." Sighing. "We're only here 'til the end of the school year. Then we'll move on." He threw the shot back.

"Your job?" 

He nodded. It was as close to the truth as it got. She may have been told about ghosts and the supernatural, but it seemed like she didn't know about hunters. "How long have you lived here?"

She snorted. "If Bessie out there wouldn't have broken down and taken all of my savings to fix, I wouldn't be here now. After the shit mechanic in town was done, I needed a job before I could move on. The art teacher had just been fired so they needed one and I have an art degree, so I'm just here until the end of the school year too." She threw back the shot like it was a practiced move, there was barely a grimace as it went down. Setting the glass on the coffee table, she looked at him. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep, you can come get the boys in the morning." Giving him a tired smile. "I've been up since six and you're sitting on my bed for the night."

He was beat himself. Standing, he nodded. "Yeah. Okay." When he reached the front door, he smiled at her and was a little gratified to see a slight flush in her cheeks. He wasn't the only one feeling the attraction. "The least I can do is treat for breakfast as a thank-you. There's a diner a couple towns over that has nearly perfect hashbrowns." He smiled again. "The boys like the pancakes."

"I like pancakes." Giving him a tired grin. "And hashbrowns. I'm in."

"Good. It's a date." Giving her a last smile as he went next door. 

Getting inside, he leaned against the front door. What the hell had he just done?! He just asked his neighbor on a date! With him. And his boys. 

Pushing himself off of the door, he made his way to the couch and flopped down on it, not bothering with his jacket or boots. 

In the almost three years since Mary had been killed in the fire, he'd felt attracted to a couple of women, but immediately would feel gulity, like he was cheating on Mary, even though she was dead and gone. But tonight, he hadn't felt any guilt at all. It wasn't like his grief was miraculously gone, that all of the pain had just vanished, but for a moment it felt like it could not be the first thing he felt when he woke and the last thing he felt before sleep.

Maybe it was because those other women had been in bars and roadhouses. They didn't know his boys and would have been just fine with wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Mary wouldn't have approved. Not that she would approve of what he had made their lives into, but he couldn't help the need for revenge, for retribution. But he had the feeling that Mary would approve of this woman. The way she'd stepped in with the boys and had taken care of them? Yeah, Mary would approve.

As he started to fall asleep, he realized one thing. He still hadn't gotten her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. I welcome all comments, concerns, suggestions, recipes, manifestos...


	4. Chapter Three: April, 1986; The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the chapter title says...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

"'Nother!" 

John woke to the sound of Sammy's delighted giggles. Groaning softly from the aches and pains that came from sleeping fully clothed on a couch, he checked his watch. Seven-thirty. Dean was probably keeping his baby brother occupied outside while both he and the neighbor slept on their respective couches.

"We don't want to wake your Dad and Dean do we Sammy?" Shit, it was the neighbor. 

"'m 'wake" Dean's voice was barely audible. The boy must have just woken up. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Pictures De!" Sammy sounded pretty cheerful this morning. That was kind of nice. Even though his youngest was a morning person, he wasn't always the easiest to deal with. Maybe it was because Mary had been alive, but as far as he could remember, Dean had been such an easy kid. Energetic, sure. But easy. Sammy, not so much.

"You're gonna have Miss Tracy usin' up all her paper Sammy." Dean trying to be responsible. But at least he now had a name for his neighbor. Tracy. Shit. He wasn't sure if it was her first name or last name.

"Plenty more where it came from Dean." Miss Tracy's voice was low. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah." Then there was silence for a couple of minutes. He knew he should get up and get the boys inside and get them dressed, but he was curious to hear how she was with his boys.

"We're not in trouble are we?" Dean's voice wasn't frightened, but it was a little worried. He rubbed his chest at the ache that the tone of his son's voice brought. He knew he was hard on Dean, he knew it. But after the fire and all he had learned, if he wasn't hard on his boys, they wouldn't survive. And that was his end game, his boys' survival. He knew in the end they both may hate him, but if they were alive, he could probably live with that.

"Nobody's in trouble Dean." It was that same soothing tone she had used with Dean the night before.

"You sure?" He'd like to think that Dean's reluctance to believe her was rooted in the fact that she was, in fact, basically a stranger, but wouldn't that be pretty? No, his son was unsure because in the years since Mary had burned, he'd become colder, shorter-tempered. Even with his sons.

"I think offering to take us all for pancakes and hash browns means no one is in trouble. Don't you?" He couldn't help but smile a little at the slightly teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah." Even though Dean sounded reassured, he figured he should probably get his ass up and let the boy know for sure that things were alright.

Heaving himself up off of the couch, he stretched for a minute trying to get his spine back into place. He wasn't as young as he had once been, passing out on couches was for younger guys. Especially crappy couches.

When he opened the front door to a serious discussion of what would be ordered at breakfast, he had to grab the doorframe to keep himself upright. Sam was perched up on her lap while Dean was tucked into her side. His boys looked...content.

The three looked up at him expectantly. Oh, yeah, he should probably do something other than stare. "Morning."

"Daddy!" Sammy squealed as he was waving a piece of paper around. "'Pala, Daddy! Twacy drawed the 'Pala!" He bent down and lifted Sam up off of her lap, taking the piece of paper from his chubby little hand. It was, in fact, a perfect pencil sketch of the Impala. And he confirmed that the neighbor's name was Tracy.

"Yeah Sammy, it's the Impala." Smiling at his youngest beaming face. He looked down at Dean and the neighbor. She had put a red plaid robe on over the pajamas she had been wearing the night before and he could see a cup with the last dregs of coffee in it. 

In the morning light, he was struck by how she seemed to just belong with his boys. He couldn't think of any other way to put it. While her dark blonde hair had a little more red than Dean's, he could see that it would lighten up considerably in the summer like his eldest. And as he had noticed last night, she had the same colored eyes as his youngest.

Both Tracy and Dean smiled up at him. For the first time in a while Dean looked more like a seven year old than an old man. He swallowed down the wave of nausea that hit him at the thought of what he was really doing to his oldest, making him old far before his time.

The neighbor laughed low and leaned into Dean like they were conspiring. "I think someone doesn't function well without coffee." Smirking up at him. "You wanna cup of coffee before we get started with the day?" He nodded.

Patting Dean on the back as she got up, grabbing her own mug. "How do you take yours...?" Fishing for a name.

"John. And I'll take it black." Deciding, if he was going to have a cup of coffee, he might as well sit down on the front step with Dean. When he sat, in a nice change of pace, Sam settled in, instead of scrambling for his brother.

He smiled over at Dean, who was looking at him a little worriedly. Guess Tracy hadn't completely reassured his son. "It's okay Dean. I'm not mad at anyone. I really didn't mean to be gone so long last night." He cleared his throat a little, frowning slightly at the morning funk taste. "Did you have fun with Tracy last night?"

Dean lightened. "Yeah. She taught me how to make hamburgers. She didn't have any pie, so we had ice cream instead." Dean's little grin lit his whole face. "But Tracy said she could make me a pie." Like she had told his son she knew all of the secrets of the universe. Then again, to Dean, pie was one of the essentials of life, so not surprising that he would be enamored of someone who would make him pie.

"You really like pie don't you?" Her voice was amused behind them.

He smiled over to her. "Other than Sam and the Impala, it may be the thing he loves most in life."

Handing him a mug full of what smelled to be strong, black coffee, she grinned at Dean. "Maybe this afternoon, if it's okay with your Dad, we can make a pie." Dean looked over to him and for once instead of telling his son no and making damn sure they didn't get attached, he just smiled and nodded his assent. "Good." Then she smiled at him. "And you just bought yourself a side trip to a grocery store." Like she knew how much he hated things like that and didn't care one iota because it was something for the boys.

Shrugging, he took a drink of his coffee and listened as Dean started to go on about what kind of pie he wanted.

"Let's continue this over breakfast." Tracy smiled at him. "I don't know about you three, but I'm starving. Why don't you take your Dad and go get ready. Meet back out here in say half an hour?" Then she nodded at his half-full mug. "I'll get that back from you later."

"Sounds like a plan." When she went inside, he looked at Sam on his lap and Dean sitting next to him on the step. "C'mon boys, let's go get ready and we'll go get some breakfast." 

Sammy nodded as Dean got up and made his way to the front door. Following his oldest inside, he tried to shake off the nervous feeling of a teenager on his first date.

He had a feeling that he was getting ready to break almost every rule he had set out for himself when he had committed him and his boys to this life. But all of the instincts he possessed told him to take that leap. He hoped like hell they were right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. I welcome all comments, concerns, and constructive criticism.
> 
> Thanks to those who have left kudos and comments! They are much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it. Please feel free to leave comments, concerns, suggestions, or even just to say hi.
> 
> I have no idea if this will go any further, it literally all came out in one shot. But I have to admit, I kind of like seeing John maybe be happy, or at least happier. Plus. little Dean and Sam?! How can anyone resist them?


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